


Etchings

by china_shop



Category: White Collar
Genre: Dating, F/M, Fic, Fluff, M/M, Multi, Snippets
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-10-29
Updated: 2010-10-29
Packaged: 2017-10-12 22:54:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,445
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/130004
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/china_shop/pseuds/china_shop
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The day after their first date.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Lomedet](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lomedet/gifts), [Yamx](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Yamx/gifts).



The Monday morning after Peter and Elizabeth's first real date with Neal, Peter got to work early. He didn't know how it was going to be, seeing Neal in the office now that they'd kissed, and he wanted to find out before the rest of the team arrived.

He didn't have too long to wait. Neal sauntered in at a quarter past eight with his hat at a rakish angle and a self-satisfied air. He came and lounged in Peter's doorway. "Sunflowers and chocolates? You shouldn't have."

"Elizabeth thought you could paint them." Peter leaned back in his chair and met Neal's gaze, and tried to stop a blush from creeping up his neck. Neither of them mentioned the forged van Gogh in the Philadelphia Museum of Art. "I've never liked roses," Peter added, more to change the subject than anything else.

Neal took off his hat and ducked his head to the side. "You know you didn't have to get me anything."

"It was El's idea," said Peter, distracted by the smooth line of his jaw. Then he realized what that must sound like. "I mean, she thought of it first. She's better at this than I am."

Neal glanced up, his eyes warm. "You're doing fine, trust me."

"I wasn't fishing." Peter wanted to go to him. The door was wooden; if they shut it, leaned against it, no one would see. They could be kissing right now, Neal's hot, teasing mouth under his.

He made himself stay in his seat.

"I'm just saying," said Neal with a provocative drawl.

Behind Neal, across the office, Cruz and Jones got out of the elevator and pushed through the main doors. Peter shifted uncomfortably and said, "Don't you have work to do?"

"Yeah." Neal threw a careless glance over his shoulder, pushed off from the door jamb and paused. "Are we still on for lunch?"

It was a casual enough question. No one would think anything of it if they happened to overhear. "Elizabeth said she'd be free by 12.30," said Peter. "How does Montebello sound?"

Neal stepped in and closed the door behind him, self-satisfaction edging into a slight frown. "Peter, you hate those kinds of places. Really, you don't have to romance me."

Peter nodded. "I know. Indulge me." He risked a smiled, knowing he was betraying his feelings and taking the chance that no one was watching. "Make the most of it."

Neal's frown cleared. He grinned back, and the room seemed to brighten. "Montebello then, on one condition." He flipped his hat onto his head. "You guys come by my place tonight."

Peter did his best to hide his reaction. "Oh?"

"I have etchings," said Neal. "And chocolates."

"You don't have to lure us, you know," said Peter. Neal raised his eyebrows at that, and Peter held up his hands and grinned. "Yeah, okay, point taken. I'm more than willing to be lured, and I think I can safely say that Elizabeth will feel the same. Now go, get out of here and pretend to do some work."

But Neal came forward and leaned his hands on Peter's desk, looked down at him with dizzying affection, and said in a pained tone of voice, "One question before I go: whose cruel decision was it to have the interior office walls be glass?"

"I'll find out and let you know," said Peter drily.

Neal laughed under his breath and tipped his hat as he headed out the door, and Peter shook his head and smiled to himself—there was no doubt at all that Neal would keep him on his toes, but they were going to be just fine. He dug his phone out of his pocket and called El to confirm their lunch date.


	2. Lunch at Montebello

El got held up with a client, and the subway took forever. By the time she arrived at Montebello, Neal and Peter were seated at a round table in a discreet booth at the back, and Neal had obviously been teasing, because his eyes were bright and Peter was blushing and trying not to smile. "Hey, break it up," said El. "I want to be in the middle. You guys get to hang out together all day."

"While we're _working_ ," said Peter, but he stood up and let her slide in next to Neal.

Neal leaned toward her as if he were going to kiss her cheek, but instead he murmured in her ear, his voice low and hot, sending shivers down her spine. "It's not as much fun as you might think. Do you realize the FBI office has glass walls?"

"They must have known you were coming." El was trying to sound flippant, but the words came out throaty and sexy. She closed her eyes, and Neal's lips brushed her cheek.

"They're spoilsports," Neal breathed. "It's hell. I have Peter within reach the whole time, and I can't do anything."

El swallowed a moan and groped for the menu. "I can imagine!"

Peter pressed up against her other side, his leg warm and solid against hers, keeping her anchored.

"Maybe I should come and work with you guys," she said, dreamily. "We could solve crimes and make out in the elevators."

"There are cameras in the elevators too," said Neal.

Peter cleared his throat. "I know it's asking a lot for you to exert any degree of impulse control, Neal, but maybe we can eat."

"Frustration makes him hungry," El told Neal.

Neal laughed low. "I know the feeling." He put his hand on her thigh, his thumb rubbing across her skirt, making the fabric whisper against her legs.

El inhaled sharply and tightened her hold on the menu. "Stop it," she hissed.

Neal's hand stilled at once, but it stayed there, and El gripped his wrist, trying to resist a nearly overwhelming urge to beg him to finger her here and now. The table was discreet, but not _that_ discreet, and Peter would be horrified.

Peter raised his eyebrows. "Neal?"

"He's being naughty." El pressed her flushed face against Peter's shoulder and batted her eyelashes at him. "Help?"

"You wanted to sit in the middle," said Peter, with very little sympathy.

El forced herself to remove Neal's hand from her leg. "I didn't know. I mean, how have you not combusted?"

"Self-consciousness," said Neal, winking at her. "It's an anaphrodisiac."

"Fear," Peter countered. "I keep expecting Neal to say something outrageous and out us to the entire office." He sounded more besotted than worried, so El didn't give that too much weight.

"I'd think you'd have a little faith in his undercover skills, after all this time," said El, laughing at both of them.

"He's projecting," said Neal. "He's scared he's going to be overcome with lust during a case briefing and shove me against the wall, with Jones and Cruz looking on—"

Peter covered his eyes and groaned. "Can you not? Please?"

"If you can't be a good example, be a terrible warning," quoted El, grinning. "I think you might traumatize Clinton for life, if you did that."

"We are not going to do anything," said Peter firmly.

"At the office," Neal clarified. "Right?"

Peter met his gaze and blushed. "Right. Honey, do you have plans tonight?"

"Apparently I do," El told the ceiling, trying not to laugh or drag them both to a convenient hotel. She looked at Neal. "Has he been like this all day?"

"Like what?" asked Peter.

Neal's eyes danced. "Nothing," he told Peter, and then he bent his head to El. "And yes."

El kissed the corner of his mouth quickly, unable to help herself. "It's—"

"Shhh," interrupted Neal. "You'll embarrass him."

"Like _what_?" repeated Peter.

El squeezed his hand. "You're adorable," she said. "And a little mercurial. And I love you."

Peter covered his eyes again. "I don't think I can go back to the office this afternoon. Or possibly ever."

"See?" said Neal. "You've embarrassed him." He leaned across El and said seriously, "You're doing fine. Trust me."

"The scary thing is that I do," said Peter. He glanced at his watch. "Oh God, we're interviewing a witness in less than an hour and we haven't ordered yet."

"You can always pick up hotdogs on the way back to the office," said El, rubbing his arm.

Neal looked horrified. "You can't bring me to Montebello for lunch and then expect me to eat hotdogs." He pushed Peter's menu toward him and picked up his own. "Order. Now. Shenanigans later."

"That's what I've been trying to—" Peter shook his head and cast imploring eyes at El, but she just grinned.

"Order now," she echoed. "Shenanigans later."


End file.
